


is this what you wanted?

by blindbatalex



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, So here is the result, cleaned and cross posted from tumblr, i had a lot of feelings about the dallas game when bergy got injured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 19:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/pseuds/blindbatalex
Summary: Brad tells them, and he tells himself, he did what he had to do to earn a spot in the league, that being a pest was the only way to get his foot in the door.He tells them and he tells himself all of North America could hate him and it would be of no matter as long as he has the city’s love on his side, (and Bergy’s love too, though he doesn’t tell them that).He manages to convince himself on both counts most nights.





	is this what you wanted?

**i.**

Brad tells them, and he tells himself, he did what he had to do to earn a spot in the league, that being a pest was the only way to get his foot in the door.

He tells them and he tells himself all of North America could hate him and it would be of no matter as long as he has the city’s love on his side, (and Bergy’s love too, though he doesn’t tell them that).

He manages to convince himself on both counts most nights.

**ii.**

“Are you going to tell me I need to be better?” Brad asks from where he has snuggled up to Bergy’s good side. There is a sense of peace to the quiet dark of the hotel room, to the warmth emanating from Patrice. Brad can breathe for the first time since the game.

He isn’t much of a religious guy, never has been, but he thinks, if there is a hell tonight’s game would cut it pretty close for him. It was like a recurring nightmare he has but in the flesh - from every shot that went wide and got deflected and was saved, to the ten minute misconduct, nothing they did - nothing he did - seemed to work and then when Bergy got hurt and when Bergy came back-

All Brad could do, when he is supposed to lead by example and make a difference, was to sit next to Bergy on the bench and watch him double over in pain, watch as they couldn’t put two and two together on the ice, wanting to claw out of his own skin, to make it stop.

“You _are_ leading the league in penalty minutes, ange,” Bergy replies, voice heavy with sleep, strokes at Brad’s forearm with his thumb absentmindedly.

And there is that thing again in Brad’s rib cage. He is leading the league in penalty minutes because the refs won’t fucking let him live, won’t let him play the game he is paid to play.

Bergy makes an unintelligible noise, pulls at Brad’s hand. “Don’t shift in bed,” he murmurs, “it hurts.”

Brad stills at the request; he didn’t realize he was. Fuck. He asked Bergy when they made it to the hotel if he should sleep in his own room tonight, somewhere between concern for Bergy’s wellbeing and uncertainty regarding his own standing, and Bergy told him there was no way he himself was going to sleep alone after a day like today but if he is in that much pain despite the painkillers-

“If I asked you not to play through injury outside of the playoffs, would you listen?” Brad tries, even though he knows the answer. He has asked this question before.

“Probably not,” Bergy chuckles. He tries to give Brad a kiss on the forehead and ends up in his hair instead. There are very few things you can fault Bergy for and dishonesty has never been one of them. 

Brad tells him he is impossible as he closes his eyes and lets his exhaustion pull him under too, past the layers of frustration and guilt. He thinks Bergy mutters something about pot black kettle black just before sleep claims him for her own.

**iii.**

It’s a little different in the morning. The sheer frustration of the night before has ebbed, but so has the safety of their shared warmth in bed. 

Truth is always more stark under the morning light. 

Brad knows what the answer is going to be long before Bergy talks to the team doctors. 

He comes back to the room with his arm in a shoulder sling and with travel arrangements back to Boston.

“We need to talk,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting at the spot next to him for Brad to join. His face is in a thousand pieces and Brad knows too, what’s coming. He swallows past the tightness at the back of his throat.

**iv.**

“You need to be better,” Bergy tells him, frowning. “The team is counting on you- I am counting on you - and you have got to be here for us Brad.”

He has told Brad those same words so many times. This particular instance is after the 2016 Winter Classic. Brad has made a point of apologizing to all of his teammates in person, saved Bergy to the last, and they are sitting in the empty locker room in Warrior Ice Arena, surrounded by equipment and cold bitter disappointment of the day before.

Bergy is good at it usually. The reason they fit so well together despite being polar opposites on any dimension you can think of is how much he doesn’t judge, just rolls with Brad’s style of play, and his personality, and Brad loves him for it.

No, Bergy saves the judgment for the occasions Brad truly fucks up, and he tells Brad he needs to be better, over and over again through the years. There is almost always more hurt in his words than anger and it always lodges itself between Brad’s ribs, like poison, eats at him from the inside out.

He will be better, he promises himself - promises Bergy - every time, means it with his whole being.

**v.**

“I want nothing more than to be able to stay and play,” Bergy starts. 

Brad almost snorts at that despite himself - as if he had any doubt his boyfriend hasn’t asked the trainers at least twice whether there was absolutely no way he could just take a painkiller and play on. But it’s not the conversation they are having right now so he nods and lets Bergy continue.

“But I can’t. Zee isn’t here either.”

Bergy puts his free hand over Brad’s on the bed. Brad wishes he didn’t, wishes he could take away the hurt in Bergy’s beautiful brown eyes, make it so that he hadn’t fucked up, make it so that Bergy is okay.

“I need you to look after the team while I’m gone. You need to lead by example and that means no reactionary penalties, ange, discipline despite how much I want to screw those bastards too.”

“Those bastards as in- the refs?”

Bergy nods and Brad can’t help the snicker that escapes him at hearing Patrice casually wish violence upon NHL officials.

Bergy laughs too, tells him it’s true before he sobers up again, brushes his thumb against Brad’s jawline.

“You will do such a good job of it,” he says with a smile, his faith in Brad complete. “You always do when I’m out.”

Brad promises that he will, meaning every word even if he chokes up a little and buries his head on Bergy’s good shoulder and chokes up some more as Bergy runs his fingers through Brad’s hair. There are tears brimming in Bergy’s eyes too and they are acting as if Bergy is being shipped off to some great war from which he may not return instead of Boston.

But there is no one to see them or to call them out for it, in a generic hotel room in Phoenix that looks like every other room they stayed in with its pleasantly bland furniture and dark curtains and the late morning sun shining bright and strong outside.

**vi.**

There is no one when Brad slips in the door to his place late at night. There were no misconducts, no reactionary penalties for him, but he didn’t score either, the absence of Bergy a massive hole they can’t fill in their center.

Another loss in regulation, another promise he reneged on, the taste as familiar in his mouth as dust. His own apartment is dark and dusty with disuse across the town there is more hurt in Bergy’s beautiful eyes than disappointment.

Brad doesn’t need to be brave enough to be there to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies that I actively went and made the ending angsty friends. The tumblr version is happier in that regard. Speaking of, I am at @blindbatalex over there if you want to come give me a holler. Thanks for reading and comments are what keeps me coming back to write more - I need 'em like I need air!


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